__Lessons__
By Jolene Beasley
"Why... couldn't you... pick a ground... floor apartment?" The speaker was, at the moment, hidden behind a high backed sofa that projected halfway out the front door of Buffy's new place.
She held her end with ease, waiting patiently as Xander caught his breath. Giles tramped around in the tiny living room, moving boxes out of the way to make room for more furniture. Xander took a deep breath, held it, and resumed carrying his end of the sofa through the door and into the small living room. As they set the piece down, he groaned, hands on his knees.
"Remind me to never help you move again. Your stuff is way too heavy. And these stairs are waaaay too steep."
"It's a lovely place, Buffy." Giles paused in his rearranging, looking around the room at the disarray. "A bit small, but functional."
"Yeah, it's lovely. And cheap. And small. And temporary, I hope." Buffy raised her eyebrows at Giles, causing a blush to creep up his neck to his face. "At least I don't have much furniture. There wouldn't be any room for it."
Xander sat heavily on the couch and raised his hand. "I vote, 'No More Furniture.' The only thing I ever want to carry up those stairs again is me."
"You mean, you wouldn't carry me up the stairs, if I asked you nicely?" Buffy gave him a disappointed look.
Xander stuttered, then realizing he had no snappy comeback, fell silent. Giles laughed from behind him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Surrender gracefully. You can't win. Believe me."
Xander saw an opportunity to change the subject, and jumped at it. "So, Buffy, where's Willow? How come she missed all the fun?"
"She's already started extra credit lab work at Tech. She is such a glutton for school! Can't wait for it to start up again. Typical Willow."
"So, it's up to us big, strong men to wrestle your lead furniture up Mount Everest. I feel so honored."
Buffy crossed her arms and glared at him. "And here I was gonna buy you lunch for helping me. Well, just forget it now."
"See what I mean? You can't win." Giles grabbed his jacket and started for the door. "Lunch sounds like a good idea to me. And I'm buying. You don't have a job yet."
"I win again!" She grabbed both of them by the arms and they started out, smiling happily.
********
After months of anguished thinking, Giles finally came to a decision. And he had a perfect time in mind to tell Buffy about it. He left the University on Friday, directly after his last class, eager to set his plan in motion. He spent several hours setting up the details: he went by the restaurant, the jewelry shop, and the nearest Hallmark store. Luckily, the store had plenty of candles. He made his purchases, then hurried home. He was running out of time.
He wanted everything to be perfect... now, he had to decide how to set the atmosphere in his somewhat gloomy apartment. Candlelight, gourmet food, and a little red wine. Soft music, maybe. He set his radio to an easy listening station, just to get himself in the right mood. Humming softly to himself, he went upstairs to get ready.
At exactly eight o'clock on the nose, he heard her knock. Taking a last, nervous look around, he met Buffy at the door. He was aware that he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't help it.
"Hey." She kissed him, lingering in the doorway. He took her in his arms, and kissed her again, just to be sure she wasn't looking around the room. Mustn't spoil the surprise.
"Close your eyes." He stroked her face tenderly, watching with fascination as her lashes obediently touched her cheek.
"It always makes me a little nervous when you ask me to do that."
"It'll only be for a moment, I promise." He dashed around, finished lighting the twenty or so candles he had scattered around the room, turned on the stereo, and lifted the warming lids off the two plates on the table. He stepped back and evaluated the scene. Satisfied, he returned to her side. "I thought we might dine in tonight." He led her to the center of the living room.
"Something smells really wonderful. Can I open my eyes now?"
"Yes."
She did, and immediately gave a little cry of surprise and pleasure. "Oh, wow! Look at all this... it looks so... so romantic." She stepped up to the table, and looked over the inviting food. "Catered?" She looked duly impressed.
"Cherve's. I thought it fitting, since we went there on our first... uhm, dinner out." He went to her side, happily receiving her approval through the Bond, as well as from her smiling face.
"You can say date, Rupert. It's not a bad word." She placed a soft hand on his neck, and kissed him slowly, feeling his pulse racing under her hand. She loved how he responded to her, right down to his heart beat. It made her feel powerful.
"Not a bad word, at all." He murmured into her hair. "Uhm, let's eat, before this marvelous food gets cold." He seated her with all the formality he usually reserved for public places.
"You always make me feel so special when you do that." She gazed at him as he sat down opposite her.
"A toast, then." He raised his glass of wine, and she joined him. "To a special night and a special lady."
She looked over the rim of her glass at him as she sipped, wondering just what he had planned for them. He was too nervous and excited to read clearly. His thoughts tumbled over each other, confusing her. She decided to find out the old-fashioned way. She'd wait and see.
During their exquisite meal, they talked of school, settling in, and her job prospects. He was giving her the English Gentleman treatment again, and she loved it. She wondered to herself what was behind Rupert's unusually upbeat behavior. She tried not to think too much about it, but still, she wondered.After they finished eating, Giles jumped up to clear the dishes away, refusing her help. Stepping just out of sight in the kitchenette, he put the dishes in the sink, and self-consciously patted his jacket pocket. A look of horror crossed his face. 'Now, where did I put it?' He thought furiously, then remembered... upstairs in the drawer of his night stand. Blast. Now he would have to make an excuse to go upstairs.
He was so intent on his thoughts that he didn't notice the spill of water on the tiled floor. His leather soles slid on the liquid, and he executed a perfect pratfall, landing hard on his back and knocking the air out of his lungs.
Buffy was at his side in an instant. "Rupert, my God, are you all right? What happened?" She knelt beside him, her hands running over his chest as he wheezed. She fought down the feeling of suffocation the Bond was transmitting, and tried to remain calm. As his breath slowly returned to him, he became highly embarrassed at his clumsiness.
"I... slipped... on something... bloody leather soles... never buy them again..."
She sat back, relieved, and begin to chuckle at him. "Buy rubber, whenever possible. That way you're grounded in an electrical storm."
He gasped in pain as he tried to rise. "Arrgh, I must've shaken something loose." He tried again, and swore eloquently as he did. She winced, unable to completely block the sharp stabbing sensation from her mind.
Buffy helped him to his feet and took his jacket off to feel his injured back. As she ran her hands down his spine, he inhaled with a hiss, and she shook her head.
"You've done it this time. You've got a vertebra out of place. Looks like a job for Buffy the masseuse. Come on, let's get you upstairs."
"Up... upstairs?" He was hurting too much to hide his surprise.
"You're too tall to stretch out on the couch. You need to lie down on the bed." She slid his arm around her shoulders and walked him slowly up the stairs.Once in the bedroom, she removed his suspenders and instructed him to lie down face first in the center of the bed. Touching the sore area gingerly, she decided on a course of action, and began stroking his back from shoulders to waist, trying to loosen the knotted muscles. After a few minutes, she felt him relaxing, and began working on him in earnest. He moaned as she put her weight behind her hands, then suddenly felt a pop, followed by a strong sense of relief as the pain subsided. She continued massaging his back, shoulders, and neck, making sure he didn't tense up and aggravate his injury again.
A good twenty minutes later, she finished her treatment and sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. She ran her fingers through his hair lovingly, waiting for him to say something. She knew from past experience he would take several minutes to recover from his woozy state. She hoped her therapy had been initiated quickly enough to prevent any permanent damage. She'd be able to tell as soon as he stood up.
He was far too relaxed to worry about the rest of the evening's perfection. He rolled over carefully onto his back, surprised that the pain was still gone. Hoping he had found his voice again, he sighed and reached for her hand.
"Darling..."
"Yes? Are you all better now?" She moved to sit closer beside him and gently caressed his forehead.
"Perfect." He smiled hazily up at her. "But I've got a, a surprise for you, and I almost ruined it with my lack of coordination. So, I'll have to leave off the... dramatic presentation. Look in the night stand drawer. There's something in there for you."
She stood and slid the drawer open, seeing the card and blue velvet ring case. She gasped, then held her breath as she reached for them. Her head was spinning. She opened the card first, reading the gold lettering with teary eyes. It was so sweet and mushy. She lay the card on the stand, and opened the case, revealing a white-gold wedding ring set. Diamonds sparkled up at her...the large solitaire sending out jewel toned prisms of light, and the matching stones on the wedding band glistening with only slightly less fire. There were seven brilliant cut diamonds in the set. It was unique, rare, and unexpected.
She sat down on the bed again, overwhelmed with emotion. He rolled onto his side next to her. He reached around her, took the engagement ring out of its case and slid it onto her finger with trembling hands.
"Buffy Summers, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" His voice was low, but strong.
She blinked, and tears beginning to trail down her face. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Sniffing, she tried again. "Yes. But I think the honor is really mine." She touched the ring, then moved her hand to admire the way it caught the light. She leaned over him and kissed him gently, still sniffing. She wiped her face and grimaced at the streak of black on her hand.
"Oh, no, damage control, my mascara's running." Grabbing a tissue from the night stand, she stood and went to the dresser mirror to repair her makeup.
He lay back in the center of the bed with a huge sigh of relief. No longer nervous and worried, he closed his eyes contentedly, his muscles loose and still warm from her touch. After a few moments of silence, he began to doze. He barely reacted when he heard Buffy's questioning voice.
"Rupert?"
"Umm Hmm?"
"Would you be upset if I told everyone we were engaged? Or do you want us to be a secret still?"
"Uhm, you should tell your mother, of course, and your father. Xander and Willow, too. They know enough to be discreet."
"Rupert?" She spoke more softly this time.
"Yes?"
"If we were making love, and I accidentally called you Giles, 'cause I've called you that for almost three years now, would you be mad?"
"Of course not. Giles is my name, as well as Rupert."
"Okay, I just thought I'd ask. I might forget, you know, in the heat of passion, or something." She got up onto the bed beside him. On her hands and knees, she slowly crawled toward him. Suddenly, he realized what she had just said, and his eyes popped open in surprise. His heart began to pound as if it would come out of his chest. She had slipped off her dress and was leaning over him in nothing but her panties and bra. She placed a hand on either side of his head and looked him straight in the eyes, seeing such love and longing in them...
"Rupert?" The word was almost a caress.
"Y-yes?" He barely had the presence of mind to answer.
"Would you be mad if I said I wanted to make love to you right now?"
"I, I don't th-think..."
"Good. Don't think."
Her lips came down on his, and she draped herself over him like a living blanket. Rational thought took a holiday as his hands slid around her bare waist of their own accord, encircling her. He pulled her tightly against him as he took charge of the kiss. Knowing how much she loved this interplay, he deepened the contact, entwining his tongue with hers, relishing her unique taste. He caressed her gently with both hands, trying not to rush despite the urgency that raced through his veins. Her skin was soft, smooth, and so inviting. Wordless expressions of love poured out of him, unbidden, and she answered him in kind.They kissed deeply for several more minutes, acclimating themselves to the intensity of emotion the Bond produced as it fed their feelings back and forth. He began to love his lady with his hands, his lips, and his whole body as he became attuned to her tiniest responses. It was intoxicating, far more than the wine they had at dinner.
'This is so good, so right...' he read her thoughts as though they were blazed across the sky in twelve foot letters. Her hands moved to his waist and she slid her fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers, exploring. Suddenly, she tugged at his slacks, and he was surprised that they were already undone. 'Nimble hands...' He obligingly slid to the edge of the bed and stood, allowing his clothing to slide off onto the floor. There was something to be said for loosely tailored clothing at a time like this.
Something very like a growl came from the girl on the bed as he turned, completely naked, and faced her again. Sensing her hungry approval of his body through their intimate Bond, he flushed.
He rejoined her in the center of the bed, this time on top, and initiated a soul-searing kiss. He continued kissing down her neck, spending some worthwhile time on a perfect ear, and was rewarded with a flood of moaning approval. His hands stayed busy, unhooking her bra and helping her slide it off her shoulders. She raised her hips to allow her panties to follow. Pausing to catch his breath, he drew away just enough to look at her.
The sight of her, lying below him, uncovered and unafraid, brought a lump to his throat, and he couldn't help whispering, "Oh, Buffy, you are so beautiful, so perfect..."
As she stroked his shoulders and chest, feeling the toned muscles that his usually stuffy wardrobe hid so effectively, she responded, "Rupert, you're beautiful too, to me. Strong and gentle at the same time." She grinned at him unexpectedly. "I'd love to see you wear a muscle shirt sometime... make all the other girls dead jealous." She underscored her statement with another searing kiss.
Amusement was not a feeling he normally associated with sex, but he found himself chuckling at her, smiling against her lips. "Wicked girl." He hugged her to him, amazed at her matter-of-fact sense of humor, even now. "You might have some competition, if I did that."
"Not a chance." She wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him close.
"Here, let me prove it to you."
********
It was a curious thing, having someone else's thoughts in your head. One usually becomes accustomed to one's own thoughts being a private domain, unavailable to others. You could think things that would hurt or damage another person, and it wouldn't matter, because those things were never said aloud. Speaking words aloud made them real. However, if someone could read your mind, then you could hurt them without meaning to. That was a horrifying thing.
As the lovers moved together on the bed, thinking only of their passion and desiring only its release, a single disturbing thought surfaced that dampened their ardor. Neither one knew with whom the thought had originated. But, instantly, they drew apart, breathing heavily, entwined in each other still, but fearful.
'I'm not your first lover... I wasn't first...' A tear began to run down Buffy's cheek, and she felt a pang of hurt coming from him. She knew what his thoughts referred to... Angel. How could he forgive her? She had gone against his wishes from the very beginning, and the results were catastrophic. She choked back a sob, and tried to send him the assurance that he was first in her heart, now and forever.
But it wasn't her past that was disturbing her partner now. The brief thought of her rash actions had reminded him of his own, and his regrets far outweighed hers.
Giles rested his head on her shoulder, not willing to look into her eyes. He was no pure virgin, either. There were many indiscretions buried in memory from his wild years, along with a few more recent ones that defied definition... moments of weakness, lapses of character, and one that he wished to keep buried forever, now coming to the surface. 'It wasn't my fault!' his subconscious cried out, seeking justification. 'It was that twice damned candy... may Ethan Rayne rot in Hell.' He could no more control his memory than he could stop the stars from shining. A groan of sorrow came from his mouth, and he couldn't help himself.
"Buffy, oh dear God, I'm sorry, so sorry, can you forgive me? How can you forgive me..."
Buffy's eyes grew wide as she saw with perfect clarity what had grieved him so badly. It seems she didn't arrive in time to prevent the unthinkable from happening that dark night. She saw him slowly fall under the cursed candy spell, and Joyce right along with him. Buffy tried to turn her mind away, tried not to watch, as his memory played a perfect record of his spell-induced tryst, with her mother as a more-than-willing partner. The truth couldn't be avoided. Her first thought after the initial shock began to fade was that the Bond was not all roses and sunshine. Blinding ecstacy, bitter truth. A fair, if sobering, exchange. Giles was openly sobbing, clinging to her desperately. He thought he had lost her trust, her love. His despair was complete.
She had to show him he was wrong.
She pulled him up against her, lying on her side, cradling his head against her chest like a child. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on soothing him, calming him, letting him feel her acceptance. She didn't know what to do about his guilt, so she murmured into his hair, "I love you, you silly goof, warts and all. I expect the same from you, don't I? Rupert, hey, it's okay... well, it's not exactly okay, but we're okay, we're okay. We're human, we mess up. We make big, gloppy messes, and we never know how to totally clean them up." She felt a glimmer of hope from him, and sighed with relief. He echoed her relief, finally relaxing into her embrace.
He couldn't believe this girl. She forgave so willingly, so completely. He couldn't have hoped for such a compassionate reaction. Grateful, overwhelming love for her washed over him, creating a refuge from his self-recrimination. In some ways, she was far more mature than he.
"You really are a sappy, sentimental, emotional basket case, aren't you?" She said lovingly. She kissed the top of his head.
He nodded his acknowledgment of his sappiness, sniffing a little. "S-sorry, love... I've rather ruined the moment, haven't I?"
"We ruined it together." She mumbled against his hair. "We're not ready for this yet, are we? The slightest thought, and we're, like, totally overboard."
He sighed as the responsible Watcher took over. "No, we're not ready for this. I... we, need time, Buffy. I'm truly sorry. But, looking at you, leaning over me, I... I'm sorry." He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Burying his face in his hands, he struggled to calm his inner storm. He still wanted her desperately. He reached for his trousers and pulled them on, his back to her.
"No, it's my fault. I caught you in a weak moment, didn't I? I mean, face it, I was doing some major seducing, there." She sat up and moved away from him, clutching the sheets to her chest. "All I could think of was what I wanted, selfish old me. Was this what UFO guy was trying to tell us? Not to go doing stuff we're not ready for?"
"Very likely, love. I'm not sure, but it seems the Bond requires a... a balance of passion and virtue ... although I can't imagine how a wretched sod like myself could ever qualify as virtuous." He ran his fingers through his already tousled hair and took a deep, shaky breath as he sat down on the edge of the bed.
Buffy frowned ruefully. "Actually, you're about the most virtuous person I know." She slid across the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back. "And, I'm guessing, here, but I don't think they were looking for saints in the first place when they picked either one of us, do you?"
"No, you're probably right. If we were already perfect, we would have no need for the Bond." He closed his eyes, feeling her warm body against his back and her equally warm thoughts in his mind.
"Yeah, and angels wouldn't be beaming down to tell us how to use it." She caught his amusement at her description, and giggled against him, causing pleasant shivers to run up his spine.
He forced himself to think about something else. Contemplating the ramifications of the unexplained forces at work in their lives enabled him to clear his head a little. He decided he needed to do some further research. Surely he could find some ancient texts that could give him some insight as to how to proceed... the Power that initiated the Bond wouldn't leave them to flounder in complete darkness. There must be guidelines, if he could only find them...
He smiled sheepishly as Buffy's thoughts came through clearly. 'Oh, no, there he goes... right into Research Mode without shifting into neutral!'
He chuckled shortly, then became serious once again. "We have far to go, it seems, before we can understand this gift that has been given us." He was afraid to look directly at her for fear his tenuous grasp on his self-control would vanish into thin air. "I don't think I'm quite ready for you to know my every waking thought."
"It's a little... no, it's a lot... scary, isn't it? I mean, I trust you with my life, but I don't even know how to control my reaction to my own thoughts, and here I need to worry about what you think about what I think, and what I think about what you think... Oh, God, this is too complicated for me right now!"
"It's terrifying, I'll admit." He mustered up the courage to look straight into her beautiful eyes. Fear, longing, and determination swirled behind them, and he caught wisps of the turmoil in her soul. He smiled, a small gesture that gently tugged the corners of his mouth upwards. "But, dearest, there is no one else on earth I would rather share my innermost thoughts with." She smiled then, too, brightening the room and his mood at the same time. "It'll take time, but we have come so far already... I must believe we can take things as far as they're meant to go."
"No major guilt trips this time, then, all right?" He nodded. He watched as she got off the bed and started looking for her clothes. Finding his discarded oxford shirt, she slipped it on, loving the feeling of wearing something of his. She turned to face him, her expression wistful. "I guess we're gonna have to learn to be patient... I really hate that word, y'know."
He sighed. "So do I." Suddenly, he was very tired, and his back was starting to ache again. He felt like he had fought a war inside himself, and had won... barely. Now he was shell-shocked and sore. She felt his fatigue, and a wave of tenderness welled up inside her as she moved towards him. He smiled hesitantly, his eyes searching her face, wanting to be sure she wasn't hurt or angry. She pushed him back down on the bed, bent over and kissed him, slowly and sweetly. "Poor baby. You need to go to sleep."
He shook his head and tried to sit up. "I don't want to sleep. I have to find out more about the Bond. How it is to be used... I don't know how to proceed. How can I guide you... us... rightly if I don't know the way..." He tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn as she forced him to recline again.
"No, sir, no books tonight. You need to sleep, Rupert, not stay up all night researching and worrying about some old ESP stuff. We'll find the way together, like we always have. Just relax." She began stroking his forehead gently. "I really don't wanna go home, so maybe I'll just stay here and make sure you get some sleep. Would that be too tempting, Rupert?"
He closed his eyes again, feeling drowsier by the minute. "No. But it probably will be come tomorrow morning."
Just before he began to doze, a niggling worry forced him awake again. He opened his eyes and reached for her hand. "Buffy..."
"Shhhh. We can talk tomorrow."
"But, love, I just wanted to tell you... to be sure you understand..."
"I do, really. You're watching out for me, aren't you? Always protecting me from the worst, and searching for the best, right?" She kissed him again, radiating love and acceptance. "Now sleep."
He relaxed, relieved, as her emotions touched him. His eyes closed again. Her fingers were warm against his face. Just before he succumbed to unconciousness, he whispered, "...only the best for my Buffy..."
He didn't even hear her reply.
********
The sound of a lawnmower starting up intruded on Giles' peaceful slumber. He groaned, throwing a hand over his face, and started to roll over, intending to put a pillow over his head. Instead, he fetched up against the sleeping blonde form next to him. Momentarily, he froze, then relaxed as his sleep-fogged memory began to function again. He pulled her against him, spooning up against her, and buried his face in her hair. Much better than a pillow. Lawnmower? What lawnmower?
He was almost asleep again when Buffy opened one eye, looked at the clock on the night stand, and said matter-of-factly, "We've been asleep for almost ten hours, did you know that?"
He raised his head, looking over her at the clock. "Good Lord. So we have." He dropped his head back to the pillow and closed his eyes. "Who bloody well cares?" He drew the covers up over his head.
Once Buffy Summers was awake, she was awake. She sat up in the bed, yawning and stretching luxuriously. "Oh, man, do I feel good. And hungry. Aren't you hungry?" She leaned over and started kissing his half-covered face. "Mmm, maybe I'll just eat you up, and be done with it." She giggled as a grin appeared in spite of his drowsiness. "But, no, I'll just let the old guy sleep. He's probably all wasted. Can't move a muscle. That's what happens when you go around asking eighteen-year-old girls to marry you..." She yelped as he moved suddenly, grabbing her by the arms and pinning her to the bed. She giggled again, not trying to get away.
"And that..." He underscored his words with a fierce kiss. "...is what eighteen-year-old girls get..." He kissed her again, hard, but more deliberately. "...when they disturb old guys..." The kiss lingered, and Buffy began to moan softly as he ravished her mouth. "...while they're sleeping." He kissed her once more, feeling arousal beginning to stir in her, and then stopped abruptly. She made a disappointed sound. "Wicked girl. Now, I'm awake and hungry. We'll have to go and get some breakfast."
She pouted a little, and then brightened. "Blueberry pancakes?"
"If you like."
"Oh, goody. Let's go!"
She bounced off the bed and gathered her discarded clothes. He chuckled as he stood, still wearing his trousers from the night before. Buffy was still wearing his shirt, so he'd have to find something else to put on. He shuffled to the closet and pulled out a fresh shirt. 'Interesting life you've chosen, old man.' He said to himself, and heard Buffy laugh in response.
She suddenly ran downstairs, then bounded back up again, purse in hand. Pulling out a small overnight kit, she cooed, "I need the bathroom for fifteen minutes, okay?"
Surprised, he began to wonder just exactly how prepared she had been for last night. She looked at him from behind the bathroom door. "It never hurts to be prepared, Rupert." She winked, and closed the door.
He decided they should get married soon. Very soon. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day. He was getting monumentally tired of waiting. There was only so much a man could take.
He heard Buffy's thoughts clearly from the bathroom. 'Christmas break is only three weeks away.'
'A winter wedding?' He wondered, wishing it would snow - again - in Sunnydale.
'Silver and blue, Rupert, my favorite colors!'
He smiled brightly at the thought.
* * *